And can I rant for a moment?

I’ve taken the anti-smoking stance on this blog before, but I’m going to say it again.


I don’t care if you’re nicer than Mother Theresa, rescue puppies from wells and solve world hunger in your spare time. If you smoke, you suck. Period. Sorry. Well, not really sorry.

Tonight, it’s pissing rain in Vancouver. I’ve had a long 10 hour day and I just want to get home, so I drag the dog out of work, let him pee and then coax him into his bag. That was the easy part.

After walking to the bus stop in the pouring rain (did I mention the rain? yeah, I did) I get nicely settled to stand and wait for the bus for 15 minutes. I just missed one while packing the dog.

Little old lady with 4 wheel walker/crawler comes along and plonks down on the bench. No problem. Old, hunched, she’s allowed to sit. On the bench, inside the nice sheltered, dry bus stop.

Then she pulls out the cancer stick and lights up. I LOUDLY exclaim something about the evilness of her and her entire family, grab the dog/bag and stomp off to find another dry space. Luckily her bus comes about 3 minutes later and she leaves. I’ve got 10 minutes to go, so I move back into the now vacant (and stinky) bus shelter.

3 minutes later, an escapee from Surrey (think trailer park meets Brittney) comes along SCREAMING into her cell. Annoying but fine. 30 seconds later, she lights up. I give her a look that I’m sure curled the cheap Walmart-extensions she had in, explain how her whole family is evil, up and down the tree so far she hasn’t even made the evil little ones yet, and leave for my sheltered spot AGAIN.

After about 5 or 6 minutes, my bus FINALLY comes. Turns out Surrey-inmate is coming with. Oh joy. Get on the small bus, head to the back so I have space for Rumble and his bag and sit down.

Behind me is a high & drunk-ass native guy hitting on the poor girl beside him. He compliments her, offers her a toke, a snort and god knows what else, shows her his magic trick with magic pennies (they were actual pennies) and talks about how he lives in the native housing, went to high school with Bryan Adams, knows where Bruce Allen works etc. And of course he stinks of booze and cigs.

While that carries on, the driver of the bus apparently got a new gas peddle and hasn’t figured out how it works. He only knows the speeds 0kph and 60 kph, and doesn’t believe in anything in the middle. I think we all had whiplash.

Did I mention it was raining? Anyway, that was the END of my rather crap-tacular day.

Fucking Thank Fucking God It’s Fucking Friday
(I learned that from Surrey Girl – who was heading back to Surrey thankfully)